The man was hot in a wholesome way. He was throwing the football high and away; obviously one of the artifacts Giles mentioned. He was wary of her, more wary than the general population, hell, than many monsters were. He followed his instincts and he was in the sun. Definitely an improvement over her normal contacts.

“You lost?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “Is it possible to get lost and end up here?”

He shrugged.

“I’m Buffy looking for Artie.” She held up the guitar case that hid her most faithful companion. It had never betrayed her. “Artifact delivery.”

He looked surprised, but smiled. He pulled some sort of contraption out of his pocket and activated it. “Artie,” he said. “Buffy is here with a delivery?”

“I’ll be right out,” he promised.

“He said…”

Buffy cut him off. “I heard.” Being forced to do this against her will made the Slayer testy.

Artie hurried out and offered Buffy an outstretched hand. “Ms. Summers,” he greeted. “Thank you for personally seeing to this.”

“You know it’s temporary,” she reminded.

“I know… just until there’re less… of you around. Or until it’s needed.”